Diaries of Oblivion: The Oblivion Crisis
by SupertrainerSylvant
Summary: A novelized version of the main quest in The Elder Scrolls IV: Oblivion, following the journey of a warrior and her trials as a prisoner, a gladiator, a mercenary, a mentor, and a champion.


_**Diaries of Oblivion**_

_**Based off of the game "The Elder Scrolls IV: Oblivion" by Bethesda Softworks.**_

_"I was born 87 years ago. For 65 years, I've ruled as Tamriel's Emperor. But, for all these years, I've never been the ruler of my own dreams. I have seen the gates of Oblivion, beyond which no waking eye may see. Behold; in darkness, a doom sweeps the land. This is the 27th of Last Seed, the Year of Akatosh, 433. These are the closing days of the Third Era... and the final hours of my life."_

_ ~ Emperor Uriel Septim VII_

**Chapter 1: The Gods' Decree**

A young Imperial woman trodded down the stone steps, flanked by a soldier in heavy steel armor on either side. Her shoulder-length, bright-orange hair moved little, as her steps were light and controlled. Her athletic and muscled arms, although not bulky, were held in place behind her by iron shackles and her outfit consisted of a dirty shirt and pants combination, seemingly cut from sacks and dyed as a cheap manner of clothing. Despite her obvious status as a prisoner, she seemed to hold little interest in the dull gray walls currently around her.

"C'mon, boys," the woman said. "Can't you at least lose the shackles? Not like I'm goin' anywhere." She spoke with a dry tone, implying her unamused contempt for her current situation. The young woman shook her arms a little to loosen the otherwise stiff feeling the shackles gave her shoulders, although it did her little good.

"Afraid not, girl," the Imperial Guard to her left said. "Direct orders from the Captain. We're not to let you out of your restraints until you're in your cell." The other guard merely nodded in agreement with his fellow officer's reply. The young woman sighed in response, shaking her head slowly.

The pair of guards led her to an empty cell across from a withered-looking Dark Elf. The woman's cell was dingy and ill-kept, even for an Imperial Prison cell. The bedroll was torn in numerous places and the personal table and chair looked like they were ready to fall apart at a moment's notice. The only light came from the torches in the stairway she had just taken and a tiny, barred window up above.

"All right," the woman said. "I've been in a number of cells, but this has to be the shittiest." She had a snarl in her voice that made one of the guards tighten his grip on her shackles for a moment, but seeing she made no hostile action, he quickly softened the grasp.

"It's the one you've been assigned," the guard who spoke before said. "Cell 2B, across from the Dunmer, Valen Dreth. No mistake about it." The other guard looked back towards the Dark Elf in the cell across, looked back to his partner and nodded again. The first guard then released the lock holding the woman's shackles together and pushed her deeper into the cell, quickly closing and locking the bars behind her. As the woman massaged her stiff shoulders, she glared at the guards as they left for the stairway, ready to return to their duties, and walked up to her cell bars to get a look at the man across from her. As she approached her bars, the Dunmer did as well.

"Oh, look," Dreth said. "An Imperial in the Imperial Prison! I guess they don't play favorites, huh?" Although the Dunmer's body was frail and withered, apparently from much time in the Prison, his voice held such a sharp ring to it that the young woman didn't even need to see his face to know he was sneering at her with a cocky smile on his face.

"Piss off, you bipedal rat," she spat back. He merely snickered and continued berating her.

"Quite a tongue on you, eh?" he said. "I guess that's one of the reasons why your own kinsmen think you're a piece of human trash. How sad." The woman merely sighed, rolling her eyes as she moved away from the bars and sat at her table, the chair giving a loud squeak as her weight pressed against its feeble, little legs.

"I bet the guards give you 'special' treatment, before the end," Dreth said. "Oh, that's right! You're going to _die_ in here, Imperial! You're going to die!" The woman ignored the Dunmer as he continued, balancing the small clay jug that was on the table with her foot out of boredom.

"Stop your yappin', you sick dog," she said. "Ain't like I never been in jail before. 'Course, back then I actually _knew_ what it was I was in jail for, but still..." She replaced the jug on the table as she heard the door that led to the main lobby upstairs open and close after a few seconds, wondering if they were already bringing in another prisoner.

"Hey, you hear that?" he said. "The guards are coming... for you!" He then gave a weak cackle before returning to the back of his cell. The young woman then heard voices as a small group of people came down the stairs, which she estimated at four with the number of footsteps she could hear.

"Baurus!" said a female voice. "Lock that door behind us!" The order was followed by a quick acknowledgement, and the young woman heard a click as the door was locked.

"My sons," said an elderly voice. "They're dead... aren't they?" The young woman wondered what was going on, as this certainly didn't sound like a conversation between guards and a prisoner, and certainly not like they were coming for any of the prisoners for execution or release.

"We don't know that, Sire," said the female voice again. "The messenger only said that they were attacked." The woman definitely knew something strange was going on, and she could tell Valen did too, as she heard his rather clumsy footsteps echoing closer to his cell door. The young woman merely stood at the back end of her cell near the window, waiting to see what would happen.

"No... They're dead," said the elderly voice once more. "...I know it."

"My job right now is to get you to safety," said the female voice as it approached the young woman's cell bars. The figure of an armored man also stood in front of the bars, but it was not the armor of the Imperial Guard, but of a style the young woman thought was only used in the country of Akavir. She then saw the woman whom the female voice belonged to, noticing she was also clad in the same armor.

"What's this prisoner doing here?" she said. The young woman raised an eyebrow, interested in the fact they didn't know she was brought down here just moments ago.

"Usual mix-up with the watch, I..." the armor-clad man said. The armored woman stopped him in mid-sentence and motioned to the cell door.

"Get that gate open," she said, looking over to the young woman. "Stand back, prisoner - we won't hesitate to kill you if you get in our way!" The young woman was intrigued even further as an elderly Imperial man wearing very ornate and expensive-looking robes followed the two armored people, the woman a Breton and the man a Redguard, into her cell, who was followed himself by yet another man, who also seemed to be a Redguard. Her attention was then drawn to the elderly Imperial, who stopped to examine her and then approached her with interest.

"You..." he said. "I've seen you... Let me see your face... You are the one from my dreams. Then the stars were right... And this is the day. Gods give me strength." The young woman was taken aback by the words this elderly man had spoken, and it took her a moment to gather her words.

"W-Wait a minute, what's going on here?" she said. Her sudden change in composure had intrigued the man's armored escort, because they turned their attention from the walls around them to the two Imperials.

"Assassins attacked my sons, and I'm next," the elderly Imperial said. "My Blades are leading me out of the city along a secret escape route. By chance, the entrance to that escape route leads through your cell." The mention of the Blades, the secretive society of warriors and spies that only answered to the Emperor of Tamriel, immediately caught the young woman's attention and her eyes widened with surprise.

"Blades?" she said. "Hold on... Just who are you?" She could feel herself getting somewhat nervous, but couldn't calm herself, unlike usual. She thought it was strange... She normally didn't lose her composure so easily.

"I am your Emperor, Uriel Septim," the elderly man said. "By the grace of the Gods, I serve Tamriel as her ruler. You are a citizen of Tamriel, and you, too, shall serve her in your own way." The young woman swallowed hard and managed to muster up the courage to speak in her casual tone, despite what her common sense told her to do when confronted by the Emperor himself, as well as three of his exceptionally-trained Blades.

"Yeah, well," she said. "I go my own way, and nobody says otherwise." The woman clenched her fist, waiting to be reprimanded and told she was out of line, but no such reprimand came. Uriel merely responded.

"So do we all," he said. "But what path can we choose when the outcome is decided by the almighty Gods?" The young woman's nervousness seemed to subside greatly when she realized that, despite her being in the presence of royalty, nobody seemed to care about formality. As her breathing calmed, she continued the conversation as the three Blades searched the walls.

"All right, I get it, Gods and all that..." she said. "But I'd still like to know why the hell I'm in jail? I didn't even doing anything this time." One of the Redguards looked to her and raised an eyebrow at her mention of "this time", but quickly resumed his work.

"Perhaps the Gods have placed you here so that we may meet," the Emperor said. "As for what you have done... it does not matter. That is not what you will be remembered for." One of the Blades must have found what they were searching for, because the young woman had noticed an opening in the wall that had not been there before.

"Please, Sire," said the Breton. "We must keep moving. We'd better not close this one, though. There's no way to open it from the other side." The Breton then began moving through the opening, which revealed a well-carved passageway behind it. The Emperor moved as well, followed by the Redguards, one of which turned to the young woman briefly before continuing on.

"Looks like this is your lucky day," he said. "Just stay out of our way." The young had regained her composure and confidence and followed behind the group at a distance through the narrow passageways. The corridors soon led to a more open room with a short stairway that led to a wooden door below.

The young woman took notice of the alcoves above, and could have sworn that she saw movement in the shadows, but followed the Emperor and his Blades nonetheless. At least, she would have if the four of them hadn't stopped, for the Breton in front had held her hand to stop the group, her Akaviri katana drawn from its sheath. The young woman sidled behind the corner of the wall next to her to watch in silence.

The two Redguards seemed to draw their katanas in time, as well, for a quickly burst of light emanated from the alcoves and a group of figures garbed in red and black armor that covered even their faces lept from the darkness to attack the Blades, who defended their Emperor fervently. The battle ended quickly, with the entire group of assassins slain. The young woman leaned out from behind the corner and moved closer to get a better look at these assassins.

She noticed, as the torchlight one of the Blades held washed over them, that the assassins had lost their armor, and instead now had crimson-red robes and hoods. Even their weapons had vanished, which the young woman attributed to magic, for she knew little of the arcane arts and assumed anything unusual was the cause of magic. It was then she realized that the number of people in the Emperor's ensemble had reduced by one. The Breton had fallen.

"Captain Renault?" the Emperor asked of one of the Redguards. The man solemnly shook his head.

"She is... dead..." he said. "I'm sorry Sire, but we must continue moving." The young woman approached the corpse of the fallen Captain Renault and picked up the katana the Blade had dropped, as well as gathering a torch and short sword from her body, thinking they could sell well in the city when she escaped. The armor was far too bulky for her tastes, however, and she didn't feel like carrying that much around without a backpack at this point. She also gathered what few potions she could from the assassins and stuffed them into her undersized pockets.

"How could they be waiting for us here?" said one of the Blades. As the young woman approached the trio with the swords slung across her back, she kept silent and waited for them to advance onward.

"I don't know," the other said. "But, it's too late to go back now. Don't worry, Sire, we will get you out of here."

"They won't be the first to underestimate the Blades!" said the first Redguard. "I'll take point, let's move." The young woman merely cracked her knuckles and took a few steps to follow before the Redguard behind the Emperor put up his hand to stop her.

"You stay here, prisoner," he said. "Don't try to follow us." The young woman merely scoffed and sneered at the Redguard before speaking.

"Don't call me 'prisoner', buddy," she said. "I have a name, you know." The Emperor nodded lightly and turned to the young woman. He seemed honestly interested in knowing her name.

"Then tell us, young lady," Uriel said. "What is your name?"

"I've long since abandoned my real name," the young woman said. "I've taken up the name of 'Phoenixa' now." She gave a couple of taps to her hair to suggest as to why she called herself that, and the Emperor seemed to understand, as he replied with a knowing nod of his head. The Blades, however, seemed to care less.

"All right," the Redguard at point said. "We don't need to know the name of someone we won't meet again, so let's move onwards." The Redguard in back nodded and the trio continued through the door, but before it closed, the Emperor turned one final time to Phoenixa and spoke.

"Be careful," he said. "For there will be blood and death before the end. May the Gods protect you until then." The wooden door then closed with a soft slam, and Phoenixa heard the click of the lock. She then cracked her neck briefly and slammed her fist into her palm.

"Guess it's time to find a way out."


End file.
